


Not again

by ivywholockian



Category: K (Anime)
Genre: Angst and Humor, Grief/Mourning, M/M, One Night Stands, Self-Hatred
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-15
Updated: 2015-10-15
Packaged: 2018-04-26 13:11:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5006050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivywholockian/pseuds/ivywholockian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yata Misaki knew how this kind of relationship worked. Didn't stop him feeling crappy about it in the morning though.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not again

“Again?” I cursed under my breath as I scrambled around the dark room, feeling for my clothes and what little was left of my dignity. My toe hit the side of the bed as I felt along the floor for my shirt. “Shit!” I slapped a hand over my mouth casting a wary glance at the huddled up figure in the bed. Last thing I wanted to do was wake him up. At last I found my shirt and slipped it on. I headed to the door glancing back at the ruined room. Didn’t Saru ever clean this place? I saw flashes of his blue uniform scattered around the room and blushed when I remembered who exactly had ripped them off. I closed the door as quietly as I could and left the apartment, grabbing my skateboard as I left.   
I’m so pathetic, every time, every single goddamn time.   
He skated back to his apartment as fast as he could trying to avoid the rest of HOMRA. He would never hear the end of it otherwise.  
Why? Why do I go back to him each time? why does he even let me do it?   
I tried to comfort myself with the fact that ,while I was the one that found myself knocking on Fushimi’s door at 1 o clock in the morning, Saru still let me in. Though it was different for him…  
You’re weak. He knows you can’t stop yourself. He’s just mocking you.  
“A strange way to mock someone” I snorted as I closed my door behind me. I caught my reflection and sighed in annoyance. I felt along the bite marks along my neck. He liked to put them on visible places, no matter how much I complained, and sometimes he bit me so hard I bled. I blushed as I remembered Saru moaning into my neck as he thrust into me, his cold teeth grazing my neck as his warm breath came out in ragged gasps. The first bite, feeling the pain like it was pleasure, his warm tongue running a rough line along the wound, the taste of my own blood on his lips, growling the word “mine” over and over into my mouth. I shook my head slightly, looking out of the window. He would be waking up now, alone as always.  
Does he care? Does he hate the feeling of waking up to a cold side of the bed as much as I hate sneaking out in the morning? Does it remind him of what we’ve lost like it does me? Or am I just a toy? Something to use and throw away?  
“you let him do it” I muttered “ you could just stop…”.   
Id tried. I really had but ever since Mikoto’s death I didn’t like being alone. Lying wide awake in the dark watching Mikoto die in a 1000 different ways over and over. It was that drove me to Saru’s door every week. I guessed there was just always a part of me that would crave my old best friend. I couldn’t escape that. The one time I tried to stop myself from running to him I found myself in his arms, after only a month of resisting, sobbing uncontrollably, begging him to let me in. It was better to retain some dignity than none. So I stopped trying to resist and went along with it. Life went on as normal. We fought; we did our jobs without ever talking about it. That’s the way we liked it.   
It made me wonder who was using who.


End file.
